The First Year

Playing for Keeps

Harry left Ron's room in a state of mild shock. Ron and Hermione. He couldn't get his mind past the idea that Ron and Hermione had shagged. He shook his head a little and crept down the stairs down to the first floor and slipped into Bill's bedroom. He climbed into the bed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what Ginny had said earlier. He knew his nightmares had been bad, but he hadn't been aware the rest of the family had been able to hear him. I guess my Silencing charms weren't as good as I thought... He tried to stay awake as long as he could at night, to keep the nightmares at bay, but eventually he fell asleep, no matter how hard he tried not to go to sleep. Harry had a rather uneasy relationship with sleep, ever since his second year of school, and it had only gotten worse as he got older and his link with Voldemort grew stronger.

He hadn't realized it was near the end of July. He's been so busy trying to stay away from the rest of the family, wrapped in his own misery. His fingers glided over the bruises on his face. Damn, that hurt. Ginny certainly hadn't pulled her punches, neither the physical ones nor the emotional ones. The first slap had jarred him; the subsequent three stripped him of the mental cotton wool he'd pulled around himself. But it was what she'd said that made him cringe. Waking the whole family with his nightmares, how he'd made Ginny feel like he'd betrayed her, Molly and Arthur staying up late, worrying. It was a wonder they still allowed him to live here, after all the trouble he had caused them over the years. He knew they had done it all without question, but he couldn't help but think that there might be a limit to even their generosity. The Dursleys' kindness hadn't lasted longer than it took to bring him inside the house the morning he'd been left on their doorstep.

And if there was anything Harry hated, it was to feel like a burden.

He rolled over on his side, and stared at a crack in the plaster of the wall until false dawn saturated the room with dull greys. His eyes drifted shut and he fell into a fitful slumber.

Ginny grabbed her dressing gown and ran up the stairs, hoping to get into the bathroom before anyone else did. She hated waiting on the landing, like a refugee, for the bathroom to become available. Luckily, it was open, and she ran inside, and quickly showered and washed her hair, a skill acquired long ago when the house could have up to over ten people and only the one bathroom. She hung the damp towel over a hook and wrapped her dressing gown around her body and went back into the room to dress for the day. Before she left, she ran a comb through her wet hair, and bound it into a ponytail. She heard the bed in Bill's room creak and fled down to the kitchen, still unwilling to face Harry after she'd hit him the day before. He probably didn't want to see her anyway.

She went into the kitchen and without being asked, pulled a stack of plates from the cupboard and began to set the table for breakfast. Ron was already awake, up to his elbows in flour. It still gave Ginny a jolt to see Ron cooking rather than eating. She had to admit he was good at it. He slid the scones in the oven, and started scrubbing the flour off his hands. He muttered, 'Every bloody time.' Swiping his hands on a dishtowel, Ron dashed upstairs. Ginny giggled a little. She knew what he meant. Every time she washed the dishes after dinner, the running water made her need the loo, too.

Ron's head popped through the doorway. 'Gin, someone's in the bathroom, so take the scones out when the bell dings, all right?'

He disappeared before she could say anything. 'Oh, sure... I'll clean up here, too,' she grumbled. With a glance around the kitchen, she pulled out her wand and began to clear the flour from the table, and Banished the mixing bowl to the sink. 'Bloody men... Can't live with them, can't kill them.'

Molly emerged from the scullery, with a basket of neatly folded laundry. 'What was that, dear?'

'Nothing...' Ginny grabbed a dishcloth and scrubbed the table.